All the paths I have taken, all the roads down which I have detoured, few having completed, and yet it seems I have a path which is mine and mine alone. These other detours and disciple-ages have permitted me to continue on what ends up being the only way I was ever meant to go. It would seem I have an internal, natural drive, somewhat akin to inertia, which leads me from point to point in the epic of my life. I believe I and others are in control, but what they seem to be doing really is helping me not to fall off the tracks. It kind of reminds me of being a character, a protagonist, in a novel, rather than a person in real life. I sometimes feel a kinship with book characters, but I always put the book down and end up feeling more indecisive and meandering than anyone fictional. I have always assumed that is the deal with real life. You don’t get the luxury of a script. You have to make it up as you go along. But maybe we are actually characters, just by virtue of having character. It defines us and determines our fates. It gives us inertial tendencies, like a magnet.

originally published on 12/25/09